


Silver that lies in Shade

by Maewn



Series: We are not the heroes [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Festivals, Gen, Markarth, Post Civil War, post dragon crisis, some headcanons in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 14:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15098267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: The Merchant's Festival has come to Markarth, and a housecarl muses on the state of the city and its inhabitants.





	Silver that lies in Shade

There is a low rumble from the Riverside and the sound causes Argis to look up from his work, finding smoke rising from the opposite side of the city, where the mine sits on the edge of the Karth River.

Markarth is in the throes of the Merchant’s Festival when all the merchants drop their prices, and the streets are crowded with people, venders on every corner all the way up to Understone Keep itself.

Brightly colored banners and flags wave in the summer breeze above the crowds, shimmering in the midday sun.

Up on Vlindrel Hall’s landing, the din is lessened and Argis and his thane have spent the morning watching the festivities and in Argis’s case, whittling.

The thane of Chalice, Jaastia Draconis, is a small Imperial woman with rich, chestnut colored hair that is shorn short and close to her skull. Argis has served her faithfully for three years now, and he finds that in all his years as housecarl, this thane is his favorite.     

“How much would you bet,” Jaastia asks, peering at the smoke with sharp grey eyes and idly drumming one hand on her sword hilt, “that Ghorza’s apprentice caused that?”

“Not a septim, thane,” Argis replies with a smile. “The boy can hardly hammer a shield. The mines have been rather unstable as of late though.”

His thane shifts on the barrel she’s chosen as a seat, “I suppose so. Which means the Silver-Bloods are going to be quite irritated should their tunnels collapse due to the mining.”

“Very, thane,” Argis says, shaving another piece of wood from the block he’s slowly wearing down.

“And,” Jaastia adds, standing and turning to face the door to the hall, “the number of disputes coming to me are going to rise.”

“Why would you say that, thane?” Argis asks.

“Because people who get hurt are going to want compensation and I don’t think the Silver-Bloods are going to give up coin lightly. Which means that they’ll come to me,” Jaastia explains.

As the thane of Chalice, Jaastia’s duty to the Reach was to mediate disputes and to see to their resolution. Anyone wanting to demand coin for injured relatives in a mine collapse would have to come to her if the Silver-Bloods refused to pay.

“Damn Silver-Bloods,” Jaastia curses quietly, not loud enough for anyone but Argis to hear.

He keeps his mouth shut. It’s not his place to comment on what is practically nobility in this city of stone and silver. He doesn’t care much for the Silver-Bloods either and after the whole incident that most of the city refers to as the Night of Redwaters, he’s more than certain that they remain only due to their few living connections and well-placed bribes.

“There’s more shadowmarks now,” Jaastia says conversationally. “Have you noticed?”

“I can’t say that I have, thane,” Argis replies.

“I found one up by the Keep,” Jaastia says, keeping her voice lowered. Argis doesn’t think anyone will be able to hear them all the way up here, but better safe than sorry. “And there’s two by Endon’s house now.”

“Shall we look into it?” Argis asks.

Jaastia frowns. “Not yet. There hasn’t been any reports of activity, but with _them_ , who knows?”

“Better a city of shadow thieves than a city of Silver-Bloods?” Argis asks _very_ softly.

Jaastia snorts. “You know, I think I’m starting to agree.”

She claps him on the shoulder, pushing off to head down the stairs. “Come on, Argis, let’s go investigate.”

“As you say, thane,” Argis says, stowing his knife and carving into his belt pouch and following. They pass a Bosmer bard cheerfully singing on the bridge and Jaastia tosses the girl a septim.

The bard winks as she catches the coin and tucks it away, continuing to sing and cajole money from passersby.

Weaving through the crowd is an art form that Jaastia learned as a small child in the Imperial City and it takes only minutes before she and Argis are at the mine.

“Any problems?” she calls to the foreman.

“Just a slight bit of rock shifting, thane,” the foreman says, “We’ll be back to work in no time.”

“Make sure those tunnels are secure before you send miners back in,” Jaastia says, “The Jarl will not be pleased if you get more people killed for a few drops of silver ore.”

“Yes, thane,” the foreman replies, waving a hand airily, before turning back to the laborers. “Come on, you lot, get back to work!”

Jaastia sighs. “Right…fancy a walk through the market proper, Argis?”

“If that is what you wish, thane,” Argis says. “I have nothing against it.”

“Great!” Jaastia says, “I saw this nice sword that I think my shield-sister would like.”

“Which one?” Argis asks as they move back towards the masses of people in the market.

“Dria, of course,” Jaastia says. “Ildari favors the bow, remember?”

“Yes, thane,” Argis says. He’s met her shield siblings before, though all four are rarely in one place at the same time due to family or work interfering.

Jaastia peruses the wares cheerfully, more browsing than buying. It’s good to see her so warm and happy.

There was a time, Argis remembers, when she seemed like a statute, still with her grief but also sharp with her vengeance. It’s taken years to temper that grief into a devotion that is as strong as dragonbone.  

“Argis,” Jaastia calls, holding up a thick polished shield made of overlapping ebony scales. “What do you think?”

“It would look well on your shield arm,” he says. “And would match the sword you carry.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” Jaastia says, pleased. “I’ll take it.”

She begins to haggle with the merchant over the price, and it takes her about ten minutes, but she manages to get another ten septims chopped off the asking price.

Jaastia slings the shield over her arm, grinning, raising her eyebrows at Argis.

“It suits you, thane,” Argis says.

She laughs. “Good. Now let’s get some mead!”

“Sounds perfect,” Argis replies.

Yes, Argis thinks as Jaastia drags him through the crushing press of the crowd, this thane is indeed his favorite.


End file.
